


A Year And A Day

by capncrystal



Category: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, Squee (Comics)
Genre: Drugs, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mild Gore, Post-Canon Fix-It, Songfic, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-05 15:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14621430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capncrystal/pseuds/capncrystal
Summary: A continuation of the end of Squee where things kind of begin to go right. Well, comparitively. You know your life is a mess when making a deal with the Antichrist is legit a better option.





	1. Bad Dream

**Author's Note:**

> The song for this chapter is Bad Dream by Ruelle. I don't know if i will ever finish but, well. Here is this.

One of the most annoying things about the prison Todd was locked in was that it was dark, even during the day. The fluorescent lighting was too bright to look at, but the corners of the room remained dark, forcing his eyes to perpetually try to adjust. He couldn’t even sit in the window when he wanted to draw because the tiny, barred thing was high up in the wall; he doubted his three-foot-something self could reach it even if he managed to unbolt the hard hospital bed from the floor and move it against the wall. 

It was probably for the best, anyway. Todd strongly suspected that his drawings were gone through when he wasn’t there, so not being able to draw as often as he wanted to wasn’t all that bad. He wasn’t sure why the doctors would bother hiding it, since they could easily take the sketchbooks away from him at any time, but everyone in charge here played all kinds of mind games with kids like him. It seemed as if they enjoyed meting out punishments for minor infractions. It didn’t matter what Todd did, how well-behaved and polite he remained, there was always something he did wrong. If he obeyed the rules, they changed them so that he couldn’t help but break the rules. Once he’d committed an infraction, it was the time out room for him.

_ Feels like I’m falling into a world I can’t control _

_ I hear it calling down in my soul _

_ Gripping my bones, it won’t let go _

And then there was the medication. Anyone who resisted their pills was quick to get the orderlies’ attention. There were ways around taking them if you were good enough. Todd wasn’t fast enough yet to palm the pills and he wasn’t desperate enough to cut a flap in his cheek to hide the pills in. Jeremy had shown him how, and had promptly gotten an infection in his mouth from it. He still wasn’t back from the infirmary. There was no guarantee he would ever return; that was just the kind of place this was. Rather than put himself at risk when he was already a magnet for bad luck, Todd just took what he was given.

The pills they gave him made Todd feel fuzzy and disconnected, like he was floating somewhere just above his own head. He wasn’t quite able to feel his emotions, and even pain seemed to take longer to reach him than normal, as evidenced when he stubbed his toe on the door and didn’t realize it until he realized his sock was wet with blood. The doctors here told him that he was sick and they would make him feel better, but he’d been mostly fine before that. Scared all the time, maybe, but after being kidnapped by aliens, nearly being eaten by his grandfather and dealing with the  _ literal corpses _ his neighbor left around, Todd was pretty sure that being scared all the time was justified. In his darker moments, he thought the meds were to make him and the other kids more docile for the orderlies. It seemed like something his parents would approve of. 

_ Wake me up _

_ Won’t you wake me up? _

_ Caught in a bad dream _

_ Wake me up _

_ I wanna feel the sun _

_ Caught in a bad dream _

Todd had been in the hospital for a month, a year, a lifetime. The calendar changed on him sometimes, but it averaged on about a month and a half when it wasn’t making him doubt his sanity so he put his faith in the law of averages and tried not to think too hard about what was going on in the outside world. He suspected, sometimes, that he was stuck in a bad hollywood version of reality; real mental health hospitals were supposed to be places where licensed therapists took care of people whose brains interfered too much in how they lived their life. Real mental hospitals were supposed to be places of care and healing. Instead of one of those places, Todd had been practically thrown at a man of questionable professionalism by his parents who were concerned with two things: First, that Todd not be given back anytime soon, and second, that they were not late for their movie date that night. 

He wished he could hate them when he thought of them. It would be nice to be able to access the rage and despair that swirled around him, since then maybe it would have an outlet besides his dreams. It would be nice to direct it to someone besides himself for once. Instead, Todd felt nothing for his parents except a distant sort of scorn and pity- not entirely the meds’ fault, since he’d never felt much for them aside from frustration and sadness every time he reached out to them and got a rejection. They were failures as human beings, and he couldn’t entirely fault them for hating him. After all, he was obviously broken. Sure, that was mostly their fault, but he couldn’t bring himself to fault them for it; it was simply that Todd’s existence was incompatible with the existence of his parents. They were somehow toxic to each other and it was nothing more than a cruel twist of fate that he had been born to them at all.

_ Feels like I’m frozen _

_ Nowhere to run from here _

_ These walls are closing me in _

_ Wearing me thin with fear _

Sometimes he saw spooky neighbor man. The first time had been during his first Zap! Therapy (ZapCorp Makes Therapy Fun!), and he kept wishing in his darker hours that he had called out. It was always at night, when he was laying on his back in bed staring at the ceiling, drowning in his fury and self-pity. His dreams were always drenched in blood and shadow-creatures, with the occasional jolly alien grinning at him from the sidelines with too many teeth. Spooky Neighbor Man stood in the middle of an orgy of organs and exposed bone, smiling vacantly as his coat turned into a tentacled shadow-beast and reached out to strangle Todd where he stood, forced to watch, unable to move. Sometimes the aliens joined in. Sometimes he saw things in his dreams that made him wake up screaming, and that was always a Bad Time, since screaming brought surly orderlies with bruising fingers and large needles.

In his waking hours, Todd reasoned that there were two possible outcomes to calling out to Nny, the Spooky Neighbor Man. Either he would step in, free Todd from his captivity with knives and a delighted laugh, and Todd would have the deaths of several adults on his hands (and skin, and hair, and clothes) and no place left to go. Alternately, Nny would ignore his distress completely, smile and wave and continue on to whatever waking nightmare awaited him as if nothing in the world was wrong. Todd wasn’t always sure which of the two was worse. Carnage made his stomach sick, and he saw enough of it to remember exactly how a corpse smelled. Despite the insanity, though, Nny had always been there for him in a homicidal maniac sort of way and the thought of even that last tenuous hope for rescue cheerfully abandoning him felt like an icy fist clutching his lungs, keeping him from breathing.

_ Caught in a bad dream... _

Todd stayed, though it felt increasingly like he was walking a tightrope with no safety net below him and a malicious set of clowns and madmen shaking the rope. Every time he fell, he bruised harder, and he wondered every day why he’d never realized that Hell was real. 

~

“Why are you here?” 

Todd had decorated his wall with pages from his sketchbooks- the polite therapy doodles of his parents and him in an unnaturally bright and happy world front and center so it would be the first thing the orderlies saw when they walked in, and a few sketches of Schmee in various protective and ferocious poses. Those gave his shrinks a field day with insulting questions about his sexuality and innermost feelings, none of which were accurate, but he had stopped caring by the third week he was here. Now it was a sort of game to give the therapists what he thought they wanted to see and watch them spin a new life story for him every week. 

The wall also had crayon doodles from when he’d changed medications and spent three days high out of his mind in his room. There was no paper for these; they were on the wall itself, which he must had imagined as some enormous canvas. At least the drawings weren’t bad, at least in quality, though they were darker than what he’d wanted to put on display here. The orderlies didn’t need the extra ammunition it gave them.

“...speaking to you…” 

He didn’t feel Schmee’s telepathic touch on his mind, stuffed as it was into the mattress at his feet and hidden by the fitted sheet and the way the blanket was tucked in between the mattress and wire bedframe. That might mean he wasn’t dreaming, but Schmee had been less able to reach his lucid thoughts lately, so there was no guarantee. Then again, Todd wasn’t sure he could judge his own mental state based on how well he was able to communicate with a stuffed bear. Sometimes he suspected he didn’t want to talk to Schmee anymore. The bear-thing absorbed the worst of the bad things that happened to Todd, but it was a sponge, not a shield. Enough bad stuff got through that dubious protection, and when Todd least expected it Schmee had suggested he set things on fire, which Todd was pretty sure was a bad thing in itself. Maybe it had sponged up so much bad stuff that it had become corrupted. Then again, considering how stupid the people around him were, maybe the bear-thing knew what it was talking about. 

“Why are you here?” The question cut through his mental fog of errant thoughts, clear and compelling. Todd considered the reasons. Why  _ was  _ he here? Oh, right. His parents had returned from their alien experimentation and had not been amused by his betrayal. Mommy hadn’t changed at all. Daddy was, if anything, angrier. They had brought him here, thrown him at a doctor like a hot potato, and left practically before signing him away. He supposed he didn’t entirely blame them, since he had sold them out to aliens. Even before that, they hadn’t liked him very much. Now that he was gone, they could be child-free again. 

“I have to be,” he breathed out a response, even though his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He was very careful to enunciate every word- the doctors tended to smack his arms if he mumbled. “They locked me up because I’m d’fective.” Despair and the side effects of antidepressants left a lump in his throat that made it hard to breathe. He wasn’t sure why he was bothering, when it was only to talk to himself. 

There was a pause, then the voice started again. “Why don’t you just leave?” It echoed on the last vowel, -leave-eave-eave, and something else was said after but was drowned out. The memory of what happened to kids who tried to escape crowded his chest, leaving no room for breath.

“Can’t,” He managed to gasp out, feeling weak with horror and fear. Who was speaking? Didn’t they  _ know _ better than to even ask? He struggled to get enough breath to exhale an explanation. He thought about the drugs, about spinning around on the ceiling while his body lay still on the bed, about feeling nauseous all the time but unable to throw up. He thought, too, about last week when he’d been caught in Sarah’s tantrum, the way Mister Sam the Orderly’s fist had crashed through the crowd of kids without warning, mercy or aim. He managed to drag his arm closer, resting it around his still-bruised ribs. It had been a week, he thought, or almost, but he was still having trouble getting a deep breath. That was just for a tantrum- if he actually tried to defy them, who knows what would happen? “They’ll give me more drugs.. Maybe worse…” 

Todd had been certain that there would be no more questions. His own mental voice tended to get scared off with the memory of pain. He preferred to try to sleep, or to distract himself with daydreams. “Do you want to stay here?” There were, in fact, more questions. Maybe there was a demon standing over his bed, cold and judgmental, refusing to let Todd sleep at all until his brain was back in the bad place. Honestly, he had nightmares no matter what mood he went to sleep in, he wasn’t sure why it was bothering to torment him and he wished it would just leave him alone. Pesky, annoying demons. 

“Maybe I deserve to be here,” Todd muttered, sullen. He focused on the inane drawing of his parents and vividly remembered the purple face and odd rectangular teeth of the alien who’d come for him in the middle of the night. He drew in another painful breath for the admission that sat like a cold lump where his heart should be. “I sold my parents to aliens to save myself.” It was a thought that bubbled up more often lately, possibly because of the therapist focusing on his own feelings of guilt.

“Like I care about your parents,” the voice scoffed, and now that it was less gentle and Todd was more awake, it was familiar after all. “That doesn’t answer my question, amigo. Let me rephrase. Do you want to leave?”

No. No  _ way _ . Todd gathered his strength and pushed himself up to a sitting position, holding himself very still once he was upright until the world stopped spinning. Pepito Diablo, the antichrist himself, was standing in Todd’s little closet of a room with his arms crossed. The afternoon sunlight made his skin look greener than usual and cast creepy shadows from his horns, making his unimpressed expression look more like the anger that was a more common emotion for him. 

Pepito emoted fairly strongly, but even on the best of days Todd didn’t, and this was not the best of days. Dull annoyance was replaced by dull surprise, but it was more like knowledge that he ought to be surprised than anything. Even that faint emotional direction faded quickly back into annoyance. He’d been right; there was a pesky, annoying demon here. It just happened to be outside of his head this time. 

“Oh. You’re real.” He took his time composing himself, pulling his legs under him to give him an extra bit of balance, because sitting with his back against the headboard just wasn’t cutting it at the moment. There were times he’d thought about Pepito showing up to take his soul, and most of those times he was glad it was only a fantasy because he wasn’t sure he could say no when the alternative was to stay where he was. 

Well, hell. If Pepito had shown up a few days ago, there wouldn’t have been a question about it. 

“Does this mean,” Todd asked, because he thought maybe it was expected to ask, “you’re here to take my soul?” He wasn’t sure what else Pepito would bother with, and there was a dull undercurrent of anger that Pepito had come to him at such a low point. They hadn’t spoken since Todd had rejected the Devil to his face, and todd strongly suspected that the Devil had given his son some sort of punishment for asking. Pepito had actually mostly avoided him for a while, though he’d jumped into fights Todd was involved with a few times through the school year. Todd guessed that he’d been ordered by his father- who, again, was the  _ actual devil _ \- to avoid him since he’d rejected their offer. 

Oddly enough, Pepito actually looked guilty at that. Being the antichrist, Todd wasn’t going to jump at the chance to believe anything good of him, but he hadn’t actually asked for Todd’s soul again and hadn’t harassed him after.. 

Perhaps the answer would surprise him after all.

~

“Why are you here?”

Todd was a small person, but he was positively tiny as he lay on his side facing the wall. He’d lost weight, which was unfortunate since he’d had none to spare the last time Pepito had seen him in skool. There were bruises under his eyes, not puffy slightly-dark circles like his mother sometimes got when she overworked herself but vivid, swollen bruises that came from not sleeping enough for far too long. His fingers twitched lightly as he daydreamed. There was no visible reaction to Pepito’s question but kept staring vacantly at the wall he’d adorned with what looked like equally vacant crayon drawings of various therapy things; his parents on a grassy hill under the sun, Schmee the stuffed bear with a wide too-human smile, various figures that Pepito didn’t recognize but assumed were people Todd had befriended at skool or here in this awful place. Todd had more forgiveness than Pepito for ignorant assholes, and could probably befriend anyone given the opportunity. It was Pepito’s private opinion than such undiscerning tastes would get him killed if allowed to continue.

The drawings were bright and vacant and at first glance Pepito despised them. They were nothing more than the reflection of the sun on the ocean, pretty and deceptive, revealing nothing of the depth below. On closer inspection, however, there were subtle details to unnerve the viewer. Grass that was winding around Todd’s father’s legs. Rust colored stains on Schmee the bear’s teeth. Alien eyes and swirls worked around everything, disguising jagged teeth and spines hidden in the most innocent of things. It made Pepito smile. His friend was in there still, hidden behind this pathetic attempt at brainwashing. Getting him out might not be as painful as he first anticipated.

“Amigo, I am  _ speaking to you _ .” Patience, he reminded himself, though it did not come naturally to him. He inflected his voice with command, as if addressing one of the lesser life forms he had to suffer the presence of on a daily basis. “ _ Why are you here _ ?” Pepito crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at one drawing of a particularly neanderthalic self-portrait of Todd with sharp teeth and a cross on his sloping forehead. Perhaps he had been thinking of Pepito while drawing it. It was not a flattering thought. 

“I have to be,” Todd muttered without inflection. “They locked me up because I’m defective.” He seemed to be speaking to himself, the words barely audible and his fingers still twitching. 

Pepito tilted his head, puzzled and frustrated. “Why don’t you just leave? What is so appealing about this place?” There was something here he was missing, which to someone who was naturally as talented, intelligent and impatient as Pepito was immensely frustrating. 

“Can’t.” Todd drew in a slightly shaky breath, eyelids fluttering as if fatigued by their simple conversation. Pepito forced himself to wait for Todd to continue, though he was speaking agonizingly slowly. “They’ll give me more drugs. Maybe worse.” His hand slid along the bed and wrapped around his ribs, hugging himself lightly. 

“Do you want to stay here?” Pepito asked, eyes on Todd’s ribs through his shirt. Suspicion was beginning to unfurl in the back of his mind like a flower in moonlight. He had satisfied himself that Todd’s parents were not prone to physical violence, but Todd had missed six weeks of skool, and if he had been here instead of home, there were other adults in his life who might be so inclined.

“Maybe I deserve to be here,” Todd whispered. “I sold my parents to aliens to save myself.” 

He might have continued speaking, but Pepito had run into the limits of his already strained patience. “Like I  _ care  _ about your parents. That doesn’t answer my question, amigo. Let me rephrase. Do you want to leave?” 

The pause was short this time before Pepito got a response. Todd rolled over and looked up at him, focusing on him with a puzzled stare. “Oh… you’re real.” He sat up and curled his legs under him, leaning back, guarded and worried. He listed to the side a little bit, but quickly regained his balance. “Does this mean you’re here to take my soul?” 

The question hit Pepito with sharp memories of soapy holy water burning his skin like acid. He’d paid for that particular mistake with agony. “We can discuss your soul later.” Happily, his voice was even, showing no weakness. “In the meantime, I need a player 2 for Vampire Piggy Hunter Three: The Baconing. It came out yesterday and I’ve already beaten it.” Pepito pouted with the memory, but let the thought of playing through it again with Todd bring him back to safe neutrality. Todd would certainly be a better companion than any of the other imbeciles in his age group. If he managed to gain Todd’s trust first, they might even become more than friends- lifelong companions, even, when the world was inevitably destroyed. The thought made Pepito positively glow inside with excitement. 

“Will you come play video games with me?” He extended his hand and waited as patiently as he was able. Todd focused on the outstretched hand, his own still wrapped around his ribs, looking vulnerable in a way Pepito was not sure he liked. He paused a beat too long, so Pepito decided to sweeten the deal. “We have gummi snacks.” 

Todd’s lips twisted, though it was not the kind of smile he was suited for. On anyone else, it would have been sardonic. On Todd, it just looked bitter. “Are they pomegranate flavored?” He took Pepito’s hand and scooted off the bed, tense but moving, seemingly ready to finally leave this hellforsaken place. 

Pepito tilted his head, puzzled. That was probably a literary reference; he’d have to ask his friend where it came from later on. “I think they have all flavors? Mother bought the brand ones, so they probably won’t give your tongue acid burns like those things you had a few months ago.” 

Todd’s sour expression dissolved into a giggle he hadn’t seemed to expect, but then he tensed and looked around like a startled prey animal. He even froze, exactly the way a rabbit does when the shadow of an owl passes overhead. Pepito watched and analyzed, pushing down his natural impatience in favor of smugness at the rescue mission he was already counting as successful. Todd calmed down again after a few seconds and squeezed Pepito’s hand with a rueful smile. 

“They punish us for laughing,” He explained, glancing down at the floor. Pepito’s smugness was replaced by cold fury. Had there been any Hospital Adults around, their faces would have been melted off for the disrespect, but the worthless insects were saved by dint of being too far away from Todd to be worth hunting down. 

“Are… are you ok?” Todd released his hand and took a step back, eyes wide. It may have been that he noticed the white rage-glow around Pepito’s head and hands. His aura tended to flare up with his rage. For his rabbity little friend’s sake, he shut it down through force of will and smiled. It was a dark smile, but it would do for now. 

“I don’t like it when you’re picked on, Squee,” He told his friend, forcing his voice into evenness it wasn’t entirely ready for. His voice was far too cold and commanding, residual rage showing through. He reined it in a little harder, and his voice was somewhat closer to normal, if still heavier than perfect. “You’ll have to toughen up a bit.” He knew he had his father’s eyes at the moment, heavy lidded and scornful. Todd’s were still wide until he looked down again, sulking, hugging himself. Avoiding eye contact. Did he not see the truth of Pepito’s words? 

Oh well. There would be time. Todd was smart; he would understand eventually and once he did, they would be an unstoppable force.

“Come,” Pepito ordered, offering his hand again. “Let us leave this place.” 

Todd stepped closer again but didn’t take the hand, glancing nervously at the door to his cell that hung open, the way to freedom. “Can I take Schmee?” He asked quietly. 

“If you must.” Pepito walked to the doorway and waited as Todd pulled the fitted sheet from a corner of his mattress and retrieved something that more closely resembled dog vomit than a stuffed bear. Its fur was matted and threadbare in places, it was stitched up with differently-colored threads, and one of its button eyes hung by a single tenacious thread. Despite its horrifying appearance, Todd clung to it, walking to freedom without a backwards glance. Pepito held the door for him and gave the mattress a curious look. Schmee had been hidden not underneath it, but in a rip in the fabric of the mattress itself that was small and easily overlooked. Interesting. 

As they walked down the sterile facility hall, Pepito slung an arm around Todd’s shoulders. The glazed panes of glass in the double paned doors at the end of the hall were bright, and the receptionist’s desk was vacant. This was possibly for the best, though Pepito made a mental note to return here the next time he felt the need to blow off steam. 

True to her promise, Pepito’s mother waited in the family car, talking on a mobile phone with her work briefcase propped on the steering wheel. She smiled and waved at Pepito when she saw them, ending the call by the time they crossed the parking lot. 

“Goodness, chiquito,” she giggled when Todd crawled into the back seat. “You’re almost tiny enough to need a carseat.” 

“The scary neighbor man says I weigh about as much as a cheeseburger,” Todd smiled shyly at her. “Hi, Mrs. Diablo.” 

“It’s good to see you again, Todd.” Mrs. Diablo reached back and ruffled his hair, smiling at Pepito as he climbed in the front seat. “Did everything go smoothly checking him out?” She clucked and fussed until he fastened his seatbelt, smoothing down a bit of his hair that had blown up in the wind.

“Everything went fine, mother,” Pepito responded calmly, adjusting the belt until it didn’t choke him anymore. Truthfully, he was almost small enough to still need a carseat himself, but he absolutely refused to admit that out loud or let either parent mention it. Some things could not be borne, and currently he needed his reputation more than he needed his safety. “Sometimes being the son of the devil has its advantages.” 

Todd flinched, but Mrs. Diablo giggled. “Silly goose. Well, we can work out any loose ends later. I think being a social worker has its advantages too, don’t you?” She closed her briefcase and slid it under Pepito’s feet, then started the car. 

“Yes, mother,” Pepito agreed. Todd, in the back seat, said nothing and pulled his knees up to his chest as they drove


	2. I Will Not Bow

Vampire Piggy Hunter 3 was, to Todd’s inexpert eyes, much the same as the previous two versions. The only difference he could identify was the new weapon whose name was an uninspired pun on bacon and better graphics on the pixellated blood explosions (which, Todd had to admit, were actually pretty awesome).

“This is the best game _ever_!” Pepito cheered as he exploded a few flying vampire pigs. “Are you sure you don’t want to play?” He grinned over at Todd from his perch on the edge of the couch where he was leaning forward, looking dangerously close to toppling off in his excitement. Todd, still not convinced this wasn’t a strange type of nightmare just waiting to release its horrors, curled on the opposite corner of the couch with his knees to his chest and watched Pepito play with bemused exhaustion.

“I’m okay,” he shrugged, not looking away from the TV. Pepito was still pretty creepy to look at, even though he was behaving just like a normal kid for once. There was no floating, no zaps of magic from his fist and no demons scurrying around in his shadow. His eyes flashed red occasionally, but that could have been the reflection of the gore from his screen. Todd wondered whether his lack of fear was overstimulated numbness or whether he was just so depressingly used to all the supernatural horror in his life that playing video games with the literal antichrist was somewhat tedious. He wished he hadn’t left his sketchbooks at the hospital. His eyelids were heavy, but the certainty that he would wake up on that thin hospital mattress kept him clinging to consciousness with quiet desperation.

Rosemary had gone through a fast food drive through for a small lunch, which despite its deliciousness had long since faded to nothing but a memory in his stomach. There was some kind of casserole in the oven now that smelled divine, and he inwardly smirked at the pun even though he didn’t dare voice it. The entire day had passed like a dream- too good to be true, but still somehow terrifying. Time seemed to move erratically, slowing down and speeding up for no obvious reason.

Todd understood why he was out of sorts, but he didn’t know what to do about it. He wasn’t even entirely sure if he wanted to be here or if the hospital was a safer place than the house of the devil. He hugged Schmee tighter and focused on taking even breaths: six seconds to inhale, six seconds to exhale, repeat. It kept the panic below surface level, though he could still feel it ready to creep up his throat and stop his breathing.

Schmee was quiet here, only occasionally whispering comments into his mind. It had always been quiet about Pepito, but there was an undercurrent music of anxiety whenever he glanced around the house. It almost felt like Todd was protecting Schmee, rather than the other way around.

The weirdest part about it was that it was a Thursday. Todd had been checked out around noon. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been out in the world at noon on a Weekday, besides during summer break of course. Pepito had been excused by his mother to run errands, one of which was checking Todd out of the hospital. He learned in the car that Rosemary had actually been in the hospital at the beginning and had only let Pepito come get him at the end, waiting in the car. The way they talked about it was weird though. Todd’s parents let him do all kinds of things on his own, but that was from apathy. Rosemary had almost made it seem like a lesson in independence for Pepito; she actually seemed to give a shit about his safety. It was surreal.

Todd’s eyes drooped a bit as he considered what kind of strange world had parents that cared for their children, but before he could lose his battle with unconsciousness, Rosemary called them downstairs for dinner.

When Todd sat down at the dinner table, he had a sense of deja vu from the previous time he’d dined with the Diablos. It probably said something about him that eating dinner with the devil (and his family) was the best possible place for him just then, but he didn’t entirely like what that train of thought implied for the state of his soul, so he focused on the extra-cheesy casserole Rosemary was dishing out. The smell of spices, tomatoes and cheese had been making him hungry all evening, and they were positively mouthwatering now when the source of them was only inches from his face.

“Okay, chiquito,” Rosemary smiled at him. “I’ll be offended if you don’t take seconds. I know what hospital food is like, you cannot tell me this isn’t better. Besides, you’re too skinny.” Both her voice and smile were kind, though the plate she placed in front of Todd was almost larger than he was. By the time he glanced up again, both Rosemary and Pepito were watching him and trying not to laugh. He smiled awkwardly and swallowed, realizing Pepito had not even been served yet and his own plate was half empty. “It’s good,” he managed, sheepish at her raised eyebrow. Next to him, Pepito wasn’t even bothering to try to hide his snickering anymore.

“I’m glad you like it,” Rosemary finally managed, covering her smile with one perfectly manicured hand. “Will you survive waiting for the next bite until we say grace?”

Todd blanched and sank deeper into his chair, wanting to vanish below the table at the chastisement in her words even though the tone was kind. The food rose up in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him. An awkward silence descended, then Rosemary sighed softly.

“It’s alright, Toddito. Juan and Pepito don’t say grace with me. You won’t be in any trouble if you choose not to say it, either. I only want some company in my faith once in awhile.”

Todd stared down at the floor under his chair, trying not to breathe too loudly. When the silence stretched on, he risked a glance up at them and nodded. “I’ll say it with you. Sorry. I forgot about grace.”

“Who needs grace when there is food this good on the table?” Pepito reached forward for the plate in his mother’s hand, leaning over most of the table. Rosemary held it up out of his reach and used her free hand to gently whack the back of his.

“Don’t think you can sweet talk me with compliments, young man. You’re still in big trouble with your father.” Pepito pouted, an exaggerated expression that Todd had never seen him make before, and after a moment of playful consideration Rosemary set the plate in front of him. As she did, the devil appeared in the doorway behind her- not in a dramatic poof of smoke, like Pepito sometimes did, but in the much more mundane sense that he walked there from the other room, loosening a tie that was reforming itself into a long robe edged in silver and bone.

“Speak of the devil,” Juan grinned at what seemed to be an old joke between them. At least, Todd thought he was grinning. It was hard to tell.

“Mmm, yes, darling, that _never_ gets old,” Rosemary muttered with a roll of her eyes, leaning up on tiptoes to kiss her husband on the lips. In his full satanic form, Juan Diablo was terrifyingly skeletal. His skin stretched white and taut, giving the illusion that he had none all. Broad black horns swept back from his forehead like a crown and curved up under his chin, making Todd worry briefly for Rosemary’s safety as she kissed him. She didn’t seem to mind though, nor did her pink lipstick leave a mark on him.

“Little Todd Casil!” Juan Diablo leaned down for a closer look from under heavy-lidded eyes, though Todd wondered how necessary it was to get so close. He would certainly have preferred some distance between them. The devil had been perfectly polite last time, but he was still the devil. Avoiding him was just the right thing to do… right? Then again, his son had just rescued Todd from the only place in the world that might be worse than hell, and his wife was serving Todd a hot, homemade, _delicious_ meal. It was probably rude to shrink back from him too much. Once again putting his faith in the law of averages, Todd froze in fear, tried not to breathe, and waited for the situation to end.

Thankfully, Juan put an end to Todd’s impromptu internal philosophical debate and the immediate source of terror and stood back up. “It’s good to see you again! Truthfully, I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” He didn’t seem offended, which was… something. “Beloved, these smell amazing.”

“Flatterer,” Rosemary giggled, serving him up a plate as well. Todd tried not to stare as he mentally tallied up the oddities around him: A married couple, getting along in front of their son (did people actually do that outside of the TV?). The wife of the devil smiling and kissing him, gold cross glinting from the delicate chain around her neck. Pepito eating happily and nothing on fire. The kitchen was bright and clean with open windows revealing the sunset over a grassy lawn outside that was dotted with flamingos. The wooden cabinets, floral wallpaper runner and decorative china were all carefully arranged to make the house look inviting, and the sunlight gave Juan Diablo a buttery yellow cast, rather than his true ivory color. The juxtaposition of domestic and supernatural was surreal. Not that he wanted to go back, but Todd had honestly felt more at home in the hospital. He was used to cold greys and hard cement. He was not used to kisch.

Pepito leaned back in his chair, much less wild than he had been before his father appeared. Juan politely waited, slim arms hidden in the folds of his cloak, until Rosemary had settled in front of her own plate and bowed her head. She spoke quietly, thanking an unnamed lord for the sustenance of the food in front of them and for the blessing of Todd’s company, which seemed unrealistic. Todd made a show of bowing his head, fighting to keep his breath even. Did prayers count if you didn’t believe the words of them?

Once the grace was said, there was a long period of silence while everyone tucked into their food. The three Diablos had impeccable table manners, and Todd fought to pace himself and copy their restrained manners. The half plate he had inhaled before was settling, making him feel almost uncomfortably full, but the consequences of not finishing his plate were too unbearable to consider.

Juan paused midway through his own plate to lean back in his chair, sipping wine. “I suppose,” he began, “It is time to discuss Todd Casil’s future.”

“Father, this can wait until after dinner,” Pepito protested, suddenly rigid in his seat. He glanced at Todd, then back up at the devil, shifting forward in a way that obscured Todd’s view of Juan. It put him between them as a sort of barrier, so Todd said nothing and shrunk down to make himself as small as possible. He had survived being asked to sell his soul before, which made it familiar territory.

“Now, Pepe,” Juan began, and Todd blinked. Pepe? “You know as well as I do that this needs to be figured out. We cannot have loose ends.”

Todd knew Pepito was a kid-name, but somehow he’d never considered Pepito to have an actual name. Filipinos didn’t do kid-names like Mexicans did. “Pepe?” He giggled, staring at his schoolmate.

“Please don’t,” Pepito grimaced. It was terrifying and delightful in equal measures. “All I did, father, was walk him out of a building. There is no need to act as if I performed a miracle. Nobody even _died_.” Despite his pouting tone, Pepito stayed in his seat, tense as he argued with his father but not flying off the handle the way he so often did at school. Maybe he knew even he couldn’t take on the literal devil.

Juan, on the other hand, was cool, almost snide. “What have I told you about doing things for free?”

“You also said he has to be _willing_ ,” Pepito retorted.

“Yes, and we are both glad you learned your lesson about that.” Juan steepled his fingers. “If he is unwilling to pay the price for this favor you did, we could always return him. You did keep the receipt?”

“ _Juan_ ,” For the first time, Todd witnessed Rosemary looking angry at her husband. She sounded sharp and disapproving.

“That being said,” Juan spoke faster, leaning slightly away from his wife, “Perhaps we can come to an arrangement. What do you say, Todd? Have you changed your mind? Will you rule an army in hell for my son?”

The focus fell on Todd, and he made The Sound. His throat almost closed up as it squeaked out, making it impossible to speak for several seconds. “I don’t want to give up my soul,” he finally managed, scrunching down again to become as small as possible under the focus of the devil and his son.

“Do you want to go back to the hospital, then?” Juan seemed to be trying to ignore his wife’s unexpectedly vicious glare, patiently and steadily waiting for an answer. Todd wanted to cry.

“I don’t want that either,” he admitted, tears prickling at the back of his eyes.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Rosemary hissed. “Juan, you better carefully consider what you are doing.” Her words carried the weight of a threat and the tension in the room increased, then abruptly shattered as Juan grinned, somehow both menacing and smug, as if he had known all along how the conversation would go.

“There is a third option,” he said casually, looking down at his claws as if inspecting them for dirt. “It is an old tradition, no longer used as apprenticeships are sadly outdated in this age of readily available education. Still, I think it would suit our situation nicely. Todd Casil, will you agree to be my son’s servant for a year and a day?”

“His what?” Todd blinked.

“His _what_.” Rosemary growled.

“Did I say servant?” This time, Juan’s lean away from Rosemary was more obvious. Had he been human, he would have been sweating. “Apologies. I meant his friend. Will you be Pepito’s friend for a year and a day?”

Todd blinked, processing this. He mentally examined the words from front to back, looking for traps and weighing them for hidden meaning. There were some obvious clarifications he wanted. “If I’m his servant, and he tells me to give up my soul, do I gotta?”

“Quite the opposite,” Juan said smoothly. “You can make no deals with me until your agreement with Pepito is up.”

“And,” Todd tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully, “Do I gotta do what he says?”

There was a pause, and this time all eyes were on the devil to explain. “You have a level head on your shoulders, and an admirable backbone,” he began. Todd and Pepito exchanged an incredulous look; a backbone was the one thing everyone who knew him agreed that he lacked. “My son could use an intelligent companion, an advisor, to look out for him. Someone to keep him out of trouble.” The incredulous look was now being trained on Juan as neither boy could understand how that would even work. The pause dragged out as he let them consider it, then he let out a breath like a sigh. “No, child, you need not do what he says. You need merely be his loyal companion. Consider what would be best for him, not what he wants to do. Be his, shall we say, voice of reason. In return, he will keep you safe.”

“I guess I can manage that,” Todd said softly, looking over at Pepito. “As long as I don’t have to do what you say.”

Pepito stared at him, uncomprehending. “I thought we were already friends. Does this mean you will talk to me in front of other students now?”

Ouch, Todd thought. That was fair, but it still stung, especially when he said it like that, especially in front of Rosemary. “Yeah,” he said, twisting in his seat out of guilt. “Just.. no more killing classmates, ok?”

“We’ll talk about it,” Pepito begrudgingly agreed with a shrug, taking another bite of the enchiladas on his plate. “They deserve what they get.”

“Well,” Rosemary softly clapped her hands together. “Now that the unpleasant part of things is taken care of, why don’t we settle the more mundane logistics? The first step will be to clear everything with your parents, of course-”

“Ireallydon’tthinkthat’snecessary-” Todd blinked and waited with bated breath for Rosemary to talk over him, but it didn’t happen. She patiently waited for him to continue speaking. “Um,” he cleared his throat. “They gave me to the hospital because they don’t want me. They say I ruined their lives a lot.” Sadness rose like bile in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him. Guilt was making it hard to move or think. “I think they’ll be happy if they never see me again.”

“It is true,” Pepito agreed, glaring down at his plate. “His parents are not good people.”

Rosemary nodded, decisive. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to make it a work problem instead of a home problem. Todd, will you be okay staying in Pepito’s room until we can convert the den into a second bedroom?”

How could he possibly sleep in the same room as the antichrist? Even though the antichrist had just agreed to protect him for a year and a day, Todd couldn’t help but wonder who would protect him from his protector.

“I don’t mind,” Pepito said between bites.

Todd made The Sound again. “It’s…. Okay?” he forced himself to say. “I guess?” It was most decidedly not okay, but he had no other options. His breath was coming faster and shallower with the rapid decisions.

Rosemary continued speaking, and her voice was kind. “Perhaps once I deal with your parents we can swing by and you can pick up some of your old things for your new room.”

Todd stared at her, barely comprehending. “I… really?” There were tears beginning to fall from his eyes and he didn’t know why. Every noise was beginning to jumble together in his ears. He barely heard Pepito suggest they buy him new things instead, and that was something he wasn’t remotely prepared to handle. Everything was just too much.

Todd did what he always did when everything was too much. He went away. It wasn’t his choice, but it happened.

“Todd?” He barely registered that people were talking. It didn’t occur to him to look up, but he saw Rosemary’s concerned face in his peripheral vision. Nothing felt real; he wasn’t even sure his body was his own anymore. Was he waking up from this dream already?

No, this wasn’t like waking up, but it was familiar. He wasn’t inside his own body anymore, but hovering a few feet above it like a balloon attached to a delicate spiritual tether. Todd registered gentle hands under his arms picking him up with almost no effort and pulling him close, like he was still a baby. The environment got darker and the voices around him got quiet; he was put down on the same couch he’d been on with Pepito before and his body curled in on itself. The miasma of frustration and anger that was a constant presence around him like a cloud was stronger now, like he’d raised himself right into it and was now breathing in the polluted toxins of emotion.

A soft hum blanketed him as gentle hands drew abstract patterns on his back. Her fingernails were sharp and perhaps they should have been frightening, but they melted the tension from his back with every curving line. He floated further downward, eyelids beginning to drift shut as his anxiety bled away and his grip on the couch cushion began to loosen. His muscles unlocked one by one, and his eyes fell completely shut as Rosemary did something his own mother never had.

_Now the dark begins to rise_

_Save your breath, it’s far from over_

_Leave the lost and dead behind_

_Now’s your chance to run for cover_

Time warped and waved as Rosemary’s hummed songs blended into each other. Todd floated in and out of his own body, unsure of how much control he really had over himself and unwilling to test it too much. Gentle fingers moved along his back and arms, never drifting into uncomfortable territory. After a while, the sleeve of his shirt was gently tugged up, exposing more of the underside of his arm and the humming startled into silence.

Rosemary’s voice was quiet. “Toddito, who grabbed you hard enough to leave bruises?” It was possible she was only talking to herself, given the volume and tone of her voice, but Todd felt that he could respond, so he did. “Orderly Dave,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

The silence dragged on and he began to tense again, but then her fingers started back up on the abstract patterns, so he relaxed again. She didn’t start humming again, but he didn’t mind too much. “Did they bruise you a lot?”

“Mmhm.” Todd shifted to use one of his arms as a pillow. “It hurts when they grab us.”

_I don’t wanna change the world_

_I just want to leave it colder_

_Light the fuse and burn it up_

_Take the path that leads to nowhere_

Her nails slowed down and paused, and she tapped lightly on his back. He peeked up and she was looking at his back intently. “Todd, did they ever hit you on purpose while you were in there?” The desire not to get in trouble coupled with the memory of pain made him tense up again. She didn’t look angry, and she’d been really nice to him, so he managed to gather up his courage and answer her in halting sentences.

“Sometimes? Last week Orderly Sam punched me in the ribs.” He lifted his shirt to show her and she jerked back, inhaling sharply. He looked down to make sure there were no bugs on his tummy, but it was just him and his fading bruises. They were a cool greenish blue, like the pictures of galaxies he’d seen. He thought they were pretty neat, even if it was still sort of hard to breathe and hurt when he moved. “”And then,” he pulled his shirt back down and showed her the very straight white lines along his knuckles where the rulers had left marks, “the doctors hit me when I talked back. It sucked because sometimes I couldn’t draw for a while after.” He pulled his face into a grimace with the memory.

 _All is lost again_ _  
_ _But I’m not giving in_

“Oh, _mijo_ ,” she sat back down and scooted closer, gathering him up in her arms for a hug. It was surprising, but nice. He wasn’t sure where to put his arms though. He let her hold him close and closed his eyes again, enjoying it despite the awkwardness.

“Nobody is going to hurt you like that again,” she promised, speaking into his hair. He wondered exactly how she planned to stop them, but didn’t say anything; arguing with grown-ups was never much use. They just didn’t understand things. Feelings welled up in him and made his eyes sting. He tried to take a deep breath, but it came out hitched like a sob.

“It’s ok, Mijo,” Rosemary comforted, rubbing snug little circles into his shoulders. “You’re allowed to cry.” Her kind words fell on him like rain and tears flowed from his eyes, soaking her blouse. She didn’t understand. He didn’t _want_ to cry; it made him feel helpless and made his daddy yell harder. The doctors always wanted him to cry, and would say mean things until they got the response they wanted.

_I will not bow, I will not break_

_I will shut the world away_

_I will not fall, I will not fade_

_I will take your breath away_

Rosemary, though, was not like the doctors. “I know it’s hard,” she murmured, still rubbing his back. He made a fist in her blouse, careful not to rip it but needing to feel fierceness when he was so vulnerable. “Crying is never easy, but sometimes it’s the only way to let the poison out.”

He tucked his head into her shoulder, hiding his face. If he pressed hard enough he could stop breathing and then everything could just go away again.

When Todd looked up again, Pepito was there, which was not what Todd wanted to see when he had just been crying. He clung to Rosemary and hid his face in her shoulder, hoping against hope she would let him stay close for just a moment longer rather than take her son’s side.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Pepito’s head tilt to the side as he watched with his creepy expressionless face. “Is he ill, mother?”

“He’s upset,” Rosemary murmured, stroking Todd’s hair. He supposed that was one way to put it.

“Can I do anything to help?” It was a strange thing to ask. Todd tensed, wondering what kind of magic he would expect from the Antichrist. Rosemary didn’t move, she just held Todd where he was.

_Watch the end through dying eyes_

_Now the dark is taking over_

_Show me where forever dies_

_Take the fall and run to heaven_

“You can get me a glass of water, traviesito, and then you can go get started on your homework. I let you play video games before you finished it but you still need to get it finished.”

“But it’s history…” Pepito deflated a bit, pouting.

“Your favorite, I know.” Todd heard the teasing in Rosemary’s voice.

“They’re making us write about winning the Vietnam war,” Pepito grumbled. Todd lifted his head and for a moment, he and Pepito made sympathetic eye contact. The one thing on which they both wholeheartedly agreed was that the Skool had a very _loose_ idea of historical accuracy.

“Is Ms. Bitters still…. Um,” Todd hesitated to say anything. Rosemary didn’t seem like she’d approve of anyone speaking ill of a teacher, even if she was more vulture than human and the only being he knew more purely evil than Pepito.

“She _really_ is,” Pepito grumbled and stumped away into the kitchen. Todd breathed a little more easily once he was gone and slid from Rosemary’s lap to the couch, glancing up at her with wide nervous eyes.

Her fingers were still running through his hair, her touch gentle and kind. “Pepito is a good boy,” she smiled, “But he does want to rush through life. I’ll make sure he give you space tonight.”

“Thank you,” Todd whispered, swallowing through his dry voice.

_And I’ll survive, paranoid_

_I have lost the will to change_

_And I am not proud, cold blooded fake_

_I will shut the world away_

“Here you go, mother.” Pepito pressed the glass of water into her hand and hopped up onto the couch, peering closer at Todd. Rosemary switched the glass to her other hand and shooed her son away.

“Go. Now. Go do your homework or I will make you nothing but canned soup for a week.” Pepito gave an exaggerated pout, and Todd wondered. Canned soup was pretty good compared to some of the stuff Todd had eaten at home, even better than the cheese sandwiches he could make when he pulled the moldy bits off the bread. It was a strange threat.

“Can I play with Todd before bed?” Pepito jumped back down, already backing up to the door.

“Tomorrow, mijo, after school. Let him sleep in a real bed tonight, he is tired.”

Todd hid his face a bit more, starting to feel awkward about being held still. Rosemary seemed to be in no hurry to let him up, and he wasn’t sure if it would be rude to get up and walk away. More to the point, he didn’t want her sending him back if he was rude, so he stayed where he was even though he was beginning to resent being treated like a little baby.

“Will he come to school again?” Pepito sounded like he was lingering in the doorway, despite being dismissed. He didn’t care much for rules, even in his own house. It was just one more thing to add to Todd’s discomfort and irritation.

“We’ll see.” The disapproving tone in her voice made his breath hitch. “It’s so close to Summer vacation and he has missed so much school already.”

“Yeah, but he’s really smart.” There was a matter-of-factness in Pepito’s voice that shook Todd to the core. Did he really think that? Nobody had ever said anything like that before.

“Even very smart children can be overwhelmed with work. Go on, go. You can play with him tomorrow and all weekend.”

The silence carried for a moment before Todd dared to look up. Pepito was gone from the room, and Rosemary was staring at the door, looking thoughtful.

“He’s a good boy,” she said softly. “He wants so badly to be your friend.” Her voice was distant, as if she wasn’t really aware she was talking out loud. He stayed quiet and still, pushing down the resentment with the ease of practice. Finally, she shook her head.

“Are you tired, Mijo? You’ve had a very big day.” Todd nodded, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He wanted nothing more than to be unconscious for a little while, and the demons could damn well wait for him to wake up before renewing their tortures.

“I think I’m going to have a long year.” He hopped down from the couch, moving slowly until he was sure Rosemary would allow him to leave.

“Ay, yes. But I hope it will be a better one than you have seen so far.” Todd heard her, but he gave her words exactly the consideration he always gave the blind optimism of adults. He knew he was a trouble magnet. All this agreement did was change the nature of the trouble.

“Good night, Mrs. Diablo,” He remembered to say before he walked upstairs to his strange new life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, Todd. It will be ok. 
> 
> Please forgive my use of Spanish.


End file.
